


in camera

by BashfulInfidel



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, does having the word penis warrant an M rating, happy belated birthday you little rascal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-03 22:46:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10976937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BashfulInfidel/pseuds/BashfulInfidel
Summary: They meet each other where they stand. Sometime's that's at the Cup of China, in front of the whole world, in front of the cameras. And sometimes it's not.





	in camera

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hartboiledeggs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hartboiledeggs/gifts).



> this was supposed to have a plot, but it doesn't, so please generously imagine any context for this conversation. a very good friend offhandedly mentioned a viktor headcanon once and i couldn't let go of it so then i wrote this trying to integrate it into canon. i hope this does your hc justice leah <3

Viktor opened the door to the dim glow of the bedside lamp. On the bed, Yuuri sat with his legs tucked under the comforter, his nose buried in an Ishiguro. He raised his head and aimed a perfunctory smile in Viktor’s direction as he closed the door.

“Maccachin’s asleep?” he asked.

“Yep,” Viktor answered from the inside of his t-shirt, which soon joined his jeans on the back of a chair. He lifted his corner of the sheets and sat up against his pillow and watched Yuuri, lost in the way his eyes moved avidly across the novel. He himself wasn’t much for books; had never been, always losing momentum too quickly, always needing something more attention-grabbing to hold his interest. Musicals, plays, films – those, he could enjoy. Things that didn’t expect much from you except that you sit passively and let your senses absorb what they were given, and maybe mull over them later, at your own pace.

He drummed his fingers against the sheets, considering his words. He twiddled his toes, stuck his tongue into his cheek. Saw Yuuri tuck a smile into the corner of his mouth, evidently noticing his fidgeting, and lost some of the hesitation. So many times he had told Yuuri to have more faith in himself, have more confidence, utterly clueless to the agony of knowing what you could lose if you let yourself get too heady with that sort of control. He knew now, of course, what the fear of loss could be; what it was to be uncertain of the things that had once been rock-solid foundations of his world (his self), and now seemed like misty artworks, shards of glass or ice that would shatter at the smallest disruption, melt under the slightest heat.

But this was his Yuuri. Viktor had chipped off every bit of himself and pressed them into Yuuri’s hands. Had trusted him to keep them safe and reorder them into something more than the sum of their parts. And what had Yuuri trusted him with in turn, but his future, his very being? Every word, every breath. Surely Viktor could manage a sentence or two.

He let air fill his lungs and exhaled the eroded remains of the pride and apprehension and long-instilled reservation that had held him back for the past two days.

“Yuuri,” he said.

“Hm?” came the noncommittal response.

“I’m sorry that I’m not very good at this.”

He heard Yuuri’s sharp inhale and dared to look up. Yuuri was frowning at him, puzzling over his meaning. He dog-eared the page he had been on, ignoring Viktor’s wince, and put it aside. He settled more comfortably into his pillows and patted beside him on the sheets. Viktor shuffled to the left until he could feel the warm press of Yuuri’s thigh through his flannel bottoms, grateful for the touch.

“This as in…dating someone who is a man?” Yuuri asked.

And here he’d thought he’d been too suave to get caught. “Well, yes, that too,” he conceded, “but also this as in, dating someone I’m in love with.”

He watched the pink flush crawl up Yuuri’s neck and ears, a gentle, unobtrusive thing, always nestled around Yuuri’s collar and ready to burst to life at the smallest prodding. It calmed him to see that familiar response, to know that what was to him _elementary_ could still set Yuuri a-blush; and perhaps it was a weak and petty thing to take comfort in his lover’s vulnerability but Viktor had never claimed to be a strong or honourable man.

“I’m…?” Yuuri asked, the end of his question (questions, really) dispersing into obscurity.

“Yes,” Viktor affirmed, feeling the bridge of his own nose burn. _Yes, yes, a thousand times yes_.

“Oh.”

“Mm.”

The silence settled around them, slowly, airily, like a balloon floating down to earth after it had taken flight.

“But I thought –” Yuuri began, and it was so sudden in breaking their reverie that it was almost too loud, too grating, _pop!_ He stopped and seemed to consider his phrasing. So careful with his words, so particular in his expression, Yuuri was, and Viktor felt a bittersweet stab of envy at it once more. “The relationships you’ve had so far, or the ones you’ve made public anyway—”

“I can assure you there weren’t a lot of relationships beyond those, Yuuri, frivolous though I apparently am,” Viktor said wryly, just to see Yuuri smile.

“Frivolous or not,” Yuuri licked his lips, “you seemed very amicable with all of your partners, and you lasted long with each of them, so I’m sure you can understand why I’m confused.”

Ah.

“Yes, I can see how it might seem that way. Hm,” he pursed his mouth. “I think the best way to explain it is that I’m not very good with sexual intimacy unless there’s affection involved. Investment, mutual trust. You want the other person’s pleasure, they want yours. You are friends.”

“Yes, I can understand that.”

“Mm. I’ve enjoyed the relationships I’ve had so far. They were stable. I dated good people, and I tried to be good to them. It was pleasant. Fun.”

“I should hope so.” Yuuri raised an eyebrow, and Viktor grinned.

“Yes, yes, they were good times. But at heart they were...another part of my daily life. Something to keep in mind and attend to; to contribute to for the sake of stability. Not like this. Not…love.”

There was that crease between Yuuri’s brow again, that small, concentrated one that meant he was trying to figure out the best way to say something while remaining considerate of Viktor’s feelings, and it made Viktor want to shake him by the shoulders and hear whatever jumble of words would spew out of him.

“Viktor...” he started slowly. “Are you sure you aren’t confusing what we have for something that it isn’t? I mean…I’m not sure that what’s between us is so different to that. This _is_ about fun and investment to me. It _is_ about friendship and stability, and I _do_ want your happiness. Is – isn’t that how you feel?”

“Yes. Of course. Yes.”

“Then how is that any different to your other relationships? Unless you mean you feel that this is more, I don't know, thrilling, or obsessive, in which case – I’m not sure whether I’d call that love…” he trailed off.

Viktor clicked his tongue. “Of course it’s thrilling and obsessive, Yuuri. The thrill isn’t this…momentary thing, it’s an undercurrent; it’s the knowledge that I’m with _you_. It’s obsessive because you’re not just a part of my life; you’re a part of _me_. I know what I’m talking about, Yuuri, and it’s not – infatuation, or whatever else you think it is.”

He watched intently as Yuuri blinked slowly and took this in, felt his chest rise and fall in escalated breaths, and then Yuuri’s hand reached for his on top of the comforter and gave it a light squeeze; an apology and encouragement tucked into one grip, and he sedated himself.

“I’ve spent the better half of my life romanticising the idea of love and realising none of those ideals could do it justice, Yuuri,” he said quietly. “I may not be very good at defining what love is, but I know very well what it is not, and what I feel for you is none of that.”

“Okay,” Yuuri nodded, his thumb rubbing nonsense circles into the skin between his knuckles. “I believe you. I believed you when you first told me. I just…well, you were saying things and they sounded suspect to me, you know how I am, and I um—”

“Needed to be sure?”

“Yeah.”

Viktor smiled. “It’s okay,” he said. “This is progress. Though,” he added, lacing his fingers with Yuuri’s and batting his lashes, “sometimes even a man as bursting with confidence as me appreciates a little extra security…”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “You have the money to afford extra security.”

“Yuuri, don’t be coy,” he wheedled.

“I love you,” Yuuri relented, though really it was never much of a challenge, and who was the romantic now? He was looking down at Viktor like…it was the sort of look Viktor couldn’t put into words, not because there weren’t words for it but because his chest felt too full for the breath, too heavy and pounding too fiercely at against his ribcage, falling, stuttering. Like its weight had suddenly become too much for it to bear, and it was collapsing into itself, condensing into a pulsar that existed for the simple pleasure of orbiting Yuuri.

“If there’s a single truth I can hold onto in my life, it’s that I love you,” Yuuri continued, “and, well, if _I’m_ so certain of something, then _you_ should have absolutely nothing to feel insecure about.”

“Okay,” Viktor said.

“And what you were apologising for? You don’t have to, ever again. I’m not very familiar with this either. We’re both learning. We’ll both learn. You aren’t responsible for leading me through this. We’re walking the same road, and we’re walking next to each other, okay?”

“Okay,” he said giddily, and he fluffed his pillow down and settled into the sheets, beaming up at Yuuri.

“And now we’re going to sleep, because I’ve exhausted my reserves of forthcoming communication and I’m tired.”

“Okay, but would you turn the lamp off?”

Yuuri switched the lamp off and joined him, wrapping his arms around Viktor’s waist in an uncharacteristic show of fondness, brushing his nose against his chest. His breath was warm and damp against Viktor’s skin. In, out; in, out; one breath following the other.

“Hey, Viktor?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t feel insecure or anything...but mine’s still bigger than yours.”

And then Yuuri turned over to the other side of the bed and fell asleep.

* * *

Later, in the aftermath of what could politely be called a demonstration that the size of one’s penis did not necessarily mean they were any less satisfying a lover ( _one and a half fucking centimetres_ , _Yuuri_ , _and my fingers are longer anyway; oh, that sounds oddly specific Viktor, did you have to get out the tape measure?_ ), Yuuri said in between gulps of water, “For someone who had never been in love before, you were awfully preoccupied with it when you first started coaching me.”

“How are you even talking,” Viktor managed between great heaving pants.

“I’ll be good to go again in a while if you want me to return the favour,” Yuuri winked.

Viktor huffed, and then what Yuuri had said earlier managed to sink in, and he made a half-hearted swipe at the water bottle and asked, “I was?”

“Uh-huh,” Yuuri nodded. “Remember how you tried to make me feel inspired by telling me to remember a time I was loved by a girlfriend?”

“A lot of people look back at happy romances for inspiration,” Viktor reasoned. “Georgi, for example. It was a generic thing to say.”

Yuuri did the irritating thing where he pressed a finger to his lips as though in deep contemplation, and Viktor _still_ hadn’t figured out whether that was supposed to be mocking him or genuinely something he had subconsciously picked up from him. “Was that also why you asked me if I had feelings for Minako?” he asked.

“ _No_ , I was just—”

“ _Or_ why you were already choreographing two programs centred around a study of love?”

“Okay, that one I’ll concede.”

And Yuuri actually stopped and looked at him like this was surprising, like he had been poking fun at Viktor all along without expecting something bigger to come out of it. Viktor took the opportunity to grab the water bottle from him.

“Yuuri,” he sighed unscrewing the lid, “You whirled into my life one evening and whisked my heart away right under my nose and I didn’t even realise it until I was at World’s; of _course_ it was bothering me.”

He watched Yuuri watch his throat as he drank with no small amount of smugness, watched the blush glow across his cheeks, his throat, his nape, and felt as though the balance of the world had been restored.

“…I’ve been in competitive figure skating for longer than one evening, you notoriously shallow man,” Yuuri muttered.

“Yes, and I have it on the authority of one Yuri Plisetsky that my nose is as long as Russia is wide, which probably helped you when you made that pass at my heart; are there any other details I left out?” he asked, baring his teeth.

Yuuri laughed. “Okay, okay, I’ll let it go.”

* * *

Of course, because he was Yuuri, and Yuuri was far too attentive to miniscule details for his own good, he did not, in fact, let it go.

“So, I ‘whirled into your life and whisked your heart away’, was it?”

“…I should have known that was what you would fixate on,” Viktor groaned.

“No, no, it was great. Fantastic. I think we should get it engraved in a plaque. I’m thinking silver-plated.”

Also, the sex high was probably partly to blame.

“Yuuri, please.”

“Oh, that’s right, you’re partial to gold. I don’t know if I could afford gold though. Maybe gold-plated?”

“Yuuri.”

“I’ve got it! It should be on my epitaph! ‘Here lies Katsuki Yuuri, mediocrely competitive figure skater, beloved son and brother. He whirled into Viktor Nikiforov’s life one evening and whisked his heart away.’ That’s a bit long. Is it too long? Hey, Viktor?”

Viktor hid under the pillow.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://frolickingingutters.tumblr.com/)


End file.
